


Harry's Eyes

by KJmom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJmom/pseuds/KJmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape explains why Harry's eyes are simply his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Eyes

Everyone says he has Lily's eyes. Until very recently I might have agreed. They were both undoubtedly a striking shade of green. The differences, however, are subtle and require one to look deeper than mere color. If you'd had the pleasure to spend any amount of time studying each set, then the disparity was blaringly obvious.

Her eyes were the color of an emerald laying in the sun, brightly reflecting every ray that beamed upon it. She was a rare jewel and was celebrated for that fact.

Her eyes were surrounded by the beautiful, clear face of someone who'd known only love and affection. A little girl who been adored and placed on a pedestal. She'd never fallen from grace, never had a reason to risk her innocence and life routinely. They'd been untouched, unharmed, unmarred by years of abuse, sacrifice, and the fickle attention of those who claimed to care the most.

She was young, lovely, and completely unscarred. However, when her sacrifice was required, she willingly forfeited her life so that he might live. Live he did, but I'm not sure that he's ever felt alive. It's all right there, in his eyes.

His eyes are a dusty, faded emerald, one that has never seen the light of day. They carry the haunted look of a man who's lost too much, witnessed as well as caused too much devastation. His eyes tell the story of a life smothered, abused, and misused. He's been nothing but a tool for destruction and it's no less heartbreaking for it's necessity.

He is a man who has never known his own value except that he was prophesied to kill a maniacal tyrant. I'm not even sure he believes he can truly claim that victory. As far as he is concerned it happened the way it was meant to, nothing more, nothing less. He suffered more than any one person should for the first eighteen years of his life. So many lifetimes of anguish in so few years, it hardly seems fair. I sometimes wonder if Lily made the right choice when she stepped in front of that curse. I sometimes would rather live under the rule of a madman than see eyes that should sparkle but only occasionally gleam.

At times I feel that we are two sides of the same coin. One might believe us polar opposites for all that he is outgoing and I am somewhat socially inept, be that as it may, they are ignorant. At night, in the dark, the nightmares come for us. Terror filled dreams of battlefields leave us breathless. Screams tear at the walls as we, yet again, watch comrades fall. Tears soak our pillows as we endure the abuse of aunts, uncles, cousins, fathers, grandparents, and schoolyard bullies.

During the day I might be able to ignore the shadows that linger in those green pools, but they are much more prominent at night by the light of a flickering candle. He can't seem to endure the dark after the dreams that plague us almost nightly. I can't bring myself to ask him to leave the candle unlit. The darkness weighs upon him, the pain in his eyes drowns me.

Aside from those differences, that anyone could see if they'd known both mother and son and would only take the time to notice, there is one other that is only for me to know. That difference is love.

You see, Lily looked at me quite often when we were children, but her eyes never held even a glimmer of love. Oh, there was a time when she'd liked me, but nothing more. The woman who protected her child with her love would never have deemed me worthy of it. It's more than a little ironic to me that he grew up to fall in love with the man she never could.

If he'd never said the words, it would have mattered very little, because I already knew. Those eyes, so alike hers, yet so very different, can hide nothing from me.

It isn't very often that I think of her now. Once I realized how very unlike either of his parents he was, it became so much easier to see Harry rather than Lily or James. Once upon a time, I cared for her, years ago I would have said I loved her. Maybe part of me still does, maybe I always will, but I don't pine for her any longer. I wish I hadn't played a role in her death, but I can no longer loathe myself for it. Had I not unwittingly betrayed her, I would not be holding her son as he recovers from yet another soul clenching nightmare. Though, I have to admit that without my treachery he would likely have no reason to suffer as he does.

So, I find solace in the fact that I lack the ability to change the past, and try not to consider if I'd actually want to change it. When he starts screaming in the throes of another nightmare, I hold him, soothe him. I wasn't able to love Lily or protect her, even from myself, so I gladly make up for my indiscretions by loving her son.

My services as spy are no longer needed. At first it felt odd to no longer have a wizard more powerful than I doling out missions and counter missions. Then I realized that I serve the most powerful wizard in all of history. I am his to command, but he would never dream to do so. It is because of that fact that I have given myself one last duty, one that may occupy the rest of my days.

I will chase the darkness from those eyes, from his very soul. If it kills me, I will see his demons exorcised and I will see life shine in him. As much as it will pain me, I want to look into Harry's eyes and see the same thing everyone else does. If only because it will mean the end of his pain, I want to once again see the eyes of Lily Evans.


End file.
